


"About a Dog..."

by unbelievable2



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbelievable2/pseuds/unbelievable2
Summary: "You know, if last week you’d said to me that this Christmas Eve I'd be sitting in a pine tree, with a poodle called Dodi and my hand up the butt of a rhinestone Bambi, I'd have said you were stoned. Now, I'm just -'bring on the dancing penguins'…"





	"About a Dog..."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluewolf458](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/gifts).



> This was a 2017 exchange story in the wonderful _'The Sentinel Secret Santa'_ comm, on LJ. It has been edited slightly since being posted there, and now includes the 'missing scene' ficlet which was created later.
> 
> This fic was written with the intention to amuse, but not really for it to be crack. If it reads a bit crack-y to you, my apologies!
> 
> You can read the guys' relationship any way you want in this story, but it is written as Gen.

William Archer had an aim in life; one that he repeated at regular intervals to anyone who would listen. Often that meant Blair, when Blair was visiting to hand over something like a hotdog, or a burger, or a sandwich.

"Ah'm gonna get me a _dawg_. I got a dawg, this world'd be so much better, you know?"

And Blair would nod, and say:

"Yeah, Arch. But being on the streets, that makes keeping a dog tricky."

"Don' see why," Arch would invariably reply. "Plenty folks do, and they been on the street less time'n me. I just want someone who'll love me, be my best friend, be there for me, come what may. You know?" And Blair would sigh, a little sadly.

"Oh yeah, Arch, I hear you on that."

So when Blair turned up on Christmas Eve at Arch's latest den (between some dumpsters on a backstreet behind Civic Hall) bearing a festive offering of a Latte Grande and a steak sandwich with onions – it being Christmas Eve, after all – and with an offer of a hostel place, he probably shouldn't have been surprised to see Arch with a canine companion.

Except this dog was not the usual rangy street-mongrel.

"Hey, Blair!" called Arch, his face wreathed in smiles. He was cuddling a small, black, wriggling shape that sparkled in the streetlight in a slightly baffling way. "This here's Chip. He and me are best friends. You say hello to Blair, now, Chip!"

The small black dog turned a liquid eye on Blair and gave a pink yawn that ended in a " _yip_!" Arch put the dog down on one of his blankets, and Blair crouched down to take a better look.

"He's a good boy, ain' he, Blair? With the fanciest collar this side of the Cascades!" Chip's collar was indeed fancy – pink and studded with glittering stones.

"Ah, yeah, Arch. Nice rhinestones. Except I think that's a _girl_ -dog…." Arch frowned and peered at the dog, who gazed back, tongue lolling.

"Oh, okay. But Chip can be a girl's name, too – right?" Blair sighed.

"I guess so. But Arch, I got the hostel place for you. I'm not sure they'll take Chip too, tonight."

"Well, I thank you, Blair, but if Chip can't go, then neither can I. Ain't that right, Chip?" He stroked the little dog, who promptly collapsed on the blanket, and exposed her tummy for a scratch. 

"Where did you get her, Arch?" asked Blair, reaching out to stroke a small paw.

"He just found me. Ain't that right, Chip? I was sorting out some kit from the dumpsters a block down from here, and he… she just wandered up to me, with her toy. And he just stayed. I mean, ain't that Kismet?"

Chip jumped up and walked over to Blair for more petting. Blair realised she was dragging something behind her; it was even more glittery than she was.

"What the heck is that?"

"A Bambi," replied Arch, "covered in rhinestones! Who'd buy a thing like that? It was… uh… all caught up with Chip's legs, with that ribbon there, you know? I dunno how it got so tangled. But he really loves that Bambi, don't you, Chip? "

As if in reply, Chip turned back to the Bambi, which was about the same size as the dog but, obviously, inanimate, and snuggled up to it. Arch smiled.

"So I tied his deer to his… her collar, so she got it with her all the time!"

Blair straightened up again, frowning. This was a well-groomed toy poodle, and somewhere out there a doting and probably well-heeled owner would be frantically searching for their lost dog. Oh, well, first things first…

"Okay, Arch, I'm going to go get a little more food for Chip and you. Later, I’ll call the hostel again, see what they're prepared to do."

He left Arch happy with his new friend, and jogged back up the street toward Civic Square. In Arch's world, the carol concert had been barely audible, but the music became more and more bellowing and badly amplified, the closer he got. He wondered how Jim was holding up. Not well, was the answer.

"At last!" complained said Detective, still standing where Blair had left him - near one of the braziers - and huddled in his jacket. "How long does it take to deliver a sandwich? Chief, we gotta go. If I hear one more children's choir squeak their tuneless way through _'Silent Night_ ', I'm going postal, here."

"Ear-plugs?" asked Blair mildly.

"In, but against this racket…?"

"Sorry, Jim, but I need to go back to get Arch some more food. He's found himself a dog."

Jim rolled his eyes.

"Oh, great. So you're covered in fleas now, I suppose?"

"I doubt it," replied Blair, making a face at him. "This is an expensive-looking toy poodle. Toy as is small, you know, not…."

"Yeah, yeah, I knew that. So where did he get it?" Blair sighed.

"Just a poor lost doggie, down on her luck. I'll get her fed and then later I'll have to ask Arch more about her, and try to trace her owners. She's got a rhinestone collar and rhinestone Bambi, so I can’t believe she's not microchipped."

"A rhinestone what?"

"A Bambi, covered in rhinestones. A Christmas dog toy, I guess. A real toy, this time, Jim…" Jim bopped him on the top of the head.

"Another lost soul for you to look after. Why're you so obsessed with Arch and his fate? Guy's a basket-case."

"Reasons, my man," replied Blair, cryptically. "Anyway, I won't be more than ten minutes." 

"Well, I'm coming with you. Anything to get out of this god-awful Christmas singalong..."

Blair's eyes widened, and he grinned wickedly.

"Oops, that's not gonna happen, man. Here comes the eternally youthful and gorgeous Assistant Commissioner's wife to engage you in yet more weapons-grade flirting. Remember how you hid, last Christmas party?"

Jim's face was a picture. Blair took the rare opportunity to deliver a hearty slap on the back.

"Cougar alert, man! Maybe you could introduce here to your spirit animal? They should get along real well!"

And with that he scampered off to the hotdog stand, leaving Jim floundering as Mrs Amanda Bingham approached with the deadly accuracy and fire-power of a Cruise missile.

* * *

Armed with another three hot-dogs and a bottle of water, Blair hurried back towards Arch's spot, still grinning to himself about Jim's plight. Sounds of violence shook him out of his reverie, and he turned the last corner to see two men kicking and pulling at Arch, who was lying in his nest of blankets, wailing. The scene was lit by the headlights of a car which was parked at the next corner, all its doors open. The little dog was snarling and yipping somewhere in the mix of legs and arms that Blair could see.

He threw down the paper bag with the food and ran towards them, pulling his backpack off his shoulders to grab at his phone.

"Hey! Hey! Stop that! Police! Stop that!"

One of the men delivered a hefty blow to Arch who fell back and lay still. The other man straightened up and, looking straight at Blair, reached into his jacket. Blair braked quickly, instinctively looking for cover, but before he could move a shout came from behind the glare of the headlights.

"Jesus Christ - you morons! Forget him! Get the god-damned deer!"

As the two heavies started swiping the blankets, a small black shape burst out of the tumble and made straight for Blair, the sparkling Bambi dragged bouncing along in its wake. Before Blair could react, Chip had leapt into Blair's arms, and there was a _'thunk_ ' at Blair's hip that signified the Bambi coming on board, too. The heavies looked up and roared their displeasure, reaching again for guns.

Blair ran. He turned to head back towards Civic Square but there was another man behind him now, so he ducked sideways and made off down a narrow alley lined with rubbish bins. Over his panicked breathing and Chip's whining he could hear voices, and the revving of a car's engine. Lights stabbed down the alley, and so Blair ducked sideways again, looking for the narrowest, most congested streets that he could find, criss-crossing his route with swerves and dives until he was thoroughly, thoroughly confused.

He stopped in the middle of a deserted lane – not even rough sleepers there – and looked around. He had no idea where he was. There was a dim streetlamp giving some illumination, so he tucked into the shadows beneath it and took stock of his position.

No backpack, so no wallet, and - dammit! – no phone. Would Jim be looking for him by now, with that pained yet resigned expression on his face?

And what about poor Arch? At least Jim would hopefully find him, and get some medical help. Meanwhile, Blair had Chip. He looked down at the little bundle, who gazed up with hopeful eyes and licked her lips, then gave a small yawn that ended in a _yip_.

What the hell had those guys been after? Surely Arch didn't have anything worth stealing…. The dog???

Blair felt around Chip's collar. Sure enough, there was an identity tag. He pulled gently so that he could see it better in the light from the streetlamp. On one side it gave a name and a California Zip code. Blair shrugged, and turned the tag over. On the other side was engraved:

_'DODI'_

"Wow, Chip! So, you're really Dodi?" The little dog gave a _yip_ and ducked her head against Blair's chest. Blair smiled, and then frowned. "But surely it couldn’t be you they were after? I mean, you’re cute, and all, but…"

Then he remembered what the other guy had shouted.

" _'The goddamned deer'_ \- they wanted your Bambi, Dodi? Why in God's name would they want your Bambi? And why do you have it in the first place?"

He crouched down and put Dodi on the ground. The little dog did some interested sniffing while he inspected the deer. It was made out of rigid plastic, seemingly quite thick for a Christmas decoration. He shook it and it gave a heavy rattle, as though it had loose contents. Turning it over, he saw a label on the deer's belly.

_'Doggie Days Treat Store Not a Toy'_

"So that's why you love your Bambi?" Blair asked Dodi. "Because it's got treats inside?" The little dog looked up hopefully. "Okay, so where do you get them out?"

Blair shook the deer again, and felt around the rhinestone body for an opening, a zipper – something. Dodi nosed between his fingers and made unerringly for…

"Oh, Dodi, that's not nice! Oh, I see. Whoa, tacky. So they're up the Bambi's butt? Okay, but I'm not liking this."

He poked a finger inside. It wasn't a big … opening, but he could feel some kind of plastic packet. He scrabbled with the one finger, then managed to pushed another finger in, and pincered the edge of the packet, drawing it carefully out. It was small, rectangular, and contained six small lozenges. Dodi gave it a sniff and turned away disdainfully.

"These don’t look like treats, Dodi. These look like…" He squinted at the lozenges. "Oh my god! They’re pills! Your Bambi has pills inside! How many pills?"

He held the Bambi up to the light, but it was impossible to see inside, and nothing more would shake free. But now he was consumed by curiosity, and pushed his fingers back in, then managed to get a thumb inside, grasping for more of the little packets. The opening seemed to be enlarging helpfully.

"Okay, well, there are _loads_ of packets," he told Dodi.

And then suddenly, pushing in just a little too far, his whole hand slipped inside, right up to the wrist.

"Oh, crap!" He pulled at the Bambi with his other hand. The plastic rim of the Bambi's rear-end cut into his wrist and the deer wouldn’t budge. He slammed it first on the ground, then on the wall behind him, and all that happened was that he hurt his hand, and the Bambi shed some rhinestones.

Dodi looked at him doubtfully, then squatted and deposited.

"Jesus, Dodi" Blair hissed at her, waving his Bambi'd hand. "How am I gonna clear that up now?"

* * *

_"So, any trace?"_

Jim straightened up and looked around the alley, shifting the phone to his other hand.

"He's been here, Simon. A little while ago, but at least I'm in the right area. You know, he wasn't that far from Civic Square, but there's a real labyrinth of alleys around here. He must have been going in circles."

_"How can you tell he was there?"_

"Dog poop," replied Jim, evenly.

_"Dog poop? Jim, in that area, dog poop won't be that uncommon. Or other poop, for that matter. What makes you think…?"_

"It's warm, so - recent."

_"Oh god! Don’t tell me you…"_

"It radiates the heat," Jim replied patiently. "Plus there was another clue; rhinestones. There's a pile of rhinestones on the ground. Arch said the dog had a rhinestone toy, or something. Maybe this means there was a fight here, as well. So I'm pretty concerned, Simon."

"Yeah, well, I've got Henri and the team out combing, plus uniforms are on the lookout. And about William Archer – Cascade General say he's been checked over and can be interviewed properly now."

"On my way", snapped Jim.

* * *

Rhinestone deer on one hand, dog in the other, Blair made his cautious way through the network of lanes until he found them getting broader and the sounds of traffic much louder. Minutes later, he emerged on a busy shopping street, brightly lit with Christmas lights and full of people rushing about in their ritual of last-minute festive retail frenzy. It was properly dark by now, and the street looked golden and welcoming.

"Okay," whispered Blair to Dodi, "if we're on Travis, then we're only a mile or so from the PD. I could find a pay-phone, but I feel like we ought to just get away from here. What do you think?"

Dodi yipped and yawned.

"Yeah, I agree. A bus would be good. I think I've got a couple of dollars in my jeans. Come on, help me look for a Loop Route…"

They were buffeted by the crowds on the sidewalk, though many, seeing them, made a wide berth. Blair considered his appearance – the race through the alleys and sitting in garbage had left him even less sartorial than usual. So, grubby face, long hair, random dog… he was now the sort of faceless, homeless person the shoppers on Travis didn't really want to see.

A well-lit bus swung to the kerb, with 'Loop' in its indicator panel. The doors flapped open and Blair let the queue get in first, then smiled encouragingly at the driver.

"The PD, please. I've got two dollars in my jeans, I just need to put the dog down so I can find them."

"So put the dog down," said the driver, frowning. "I need the fare before you board my bus."

Blair sighed, and crouched down so he could drop Dodi and then rummage with his free hand in his jeans pocket. Which was on the opposite side, so not an easy task. But he'd hardly started when the driver started to wave him away.

"I'm sorry, but you can't board this bus, sir. Please vacate the platform now. I need to leave."

"But I've got the money!" protested Blair. "I've just got to find it! I promise, it’s there!"

"Nah, it’s your dog. It's not on a leash. Transport Authority says all dogs must be on leashes on the bus. Sorry, but you can't get on board."

"But she's got a leash!" shouted Blair in exasperation, waving the Bambi at the driver. He was conscious that not only were the passengers on the bus craning to see the commotion, but there was now a small knot of people outside, rubber-necking. He really didn't need the publicity.

"That ain't a leash," replied the driver, pointing. "That there's a piece of ribbon. You ain't even holding it properly. That could break at any moment, and I'd have a loose dog on board, creating havoc." Dodi gave a yip and a snarl as if to back him up, and Blair looked at her askance.

"I don't need help like that, Dodes, okay?"

"So please vacate the platform," repeated the driver firmly. "I need to move off."

"But…"

"You want me to call the cops?" he snapped. Blair grinned hugely.

"Yes, yes! That’s exactly what you should do! Please, call them! Call the PD and tell Detective Jim Ellison that I need help! I work with the PD and I…." The doors started flapping towards him, and he stepped backwards involuntarily, out of their way. They shut firmly against him.

"Please!" he shouted at the departing bus. "Please call the cops!"

The knot of people around the bus-stop broke up with sniggers or snorts of disgust, and Blair found himself facing two heavyset men in dark parkas, and a well-dressed individual who smiled politely at him, even as the heavies grabbed Blair's arms with grips like iron.

"So glad to have caught up with you," said the well-dressed man. "We need a little chat."

* * *

"Oh man, it was tough," mused Arch, happily tucking into hospital beef stew and dumplings, the spoon working rapidly. "They were kicking and punching, wanting to get to little Chip. And I wasn’t going to let him go, no sir. Not my little buddy! You know, Detective, I really thought my time had come, but then Blair showed up, shoutin' and hollerin'. And Chip just ran to him, and then they all just ran off after Blair. That's all I saw before I got real dizzy. And then I don't remember nuthin' till you found me."

"Where did you find that dog, Arch," asked Jim, as Arch shovelled in the last of the stew and then transferred his attentions immediately to the green jello.

"Down by Madison. You know, where they rent out those old storage sheds to folks to put their spare furniture and whatever? He... she was just wandering around, draggin' that Bambi. She came to me right away. Such a lovin' little dawg."

Jim stared hard at Arch, who swallowed and put the jello spoon down.

"Tell me the truth, Arch," said Jim. "I'm not going to get you into trouble, and it may help find Blair and Chip." Arch sighed.

"Yeah, so it was there, by the storage places. But I just saw the car doors left open and so I looked to see… you know? And there was this little dawg, sitting next to her shiny toy. I've always wanted a dawg, Detective Ellison." Jim nodded wearily.

"And the two guys beating up on you… You didn't know them, right? Can you describe them to me?"

"They was dark, Detective. It was all dark, you know?" Jim shrugged and sighed.

"The other guy, though…" added Arch.

"What other guy?"

"He was just standing a-ways off," mused Arch. "I could see him real well, though, in the headlights. His shoes, 'cuz they were on a level with me. Two-tone, cream and tan. In that street? And a green check suit, with a camel coat over his shoulders. I mean, come one! Who dresses like that, nowadays?" Jim's face went hard.

"Basil Egremont, that's who!"

* * *

_"Monty Egremont?"_ repeated Simon disbelievingly. _"Hey, Henri's just come in, I'm putting you on speaker-phone. So, Monty Egremont is back in town?"_

"Seriously," replied Jim, leaning against the wall of the hospital corridor, "nobody dresses like Monty. Just, why the dog?" Henri's voice came down the line.

_"That sonofabitch! I tell you, Basil Egremont is mine, Jim. I really want this collar. He gave me such a hard time when I was working Burglary. The best-known fence in the North-west, and he ran rings round all of us. There's a lot of unsolved robberies he could help us with, as well as asset recovery."_

Simon spoke up now, querying Henri.

_"But he left the area – what, 6 years ago? They said he wasn’t likely to return."_

"He's yours, with pleasure, H. But why the dog?" repeated Jim.

 _"First,"_ said Henri, _"he ran because he got the wrong side of Tony Olivieri. Rumour was that he set up business in California, the Santa Monica area. Now, there's more rumours that he's offended some unsavoury people down there, too. Meanwhile in Cascade… well, Tony Olivieri's just has a stroke. So his old enemy's out for the count, and that little empire is breaking apart. I guess Monty's seen an opportunity. Maybe even branching out into other activities."_

"But why the dog?"

 _"Henri,"_ came Simon's voice, _"remind me to get the team to have a gentle word with our snitches. They should remember they're on the books so we get a heads-up about these things, not to play a game of Twenty Questions! And yeah, the dog."_

 _"On that, you got me. Oh hey, message from Rhonda."_ There was a pause at the PD end of the line, then Henri spoke up again, his voice urgent.

_"Reports from a bus driver of a crazy guy with a dog, shouting at people near the Goodwins store on Travis."_

"I'll see you there," said Jim, already moving, and he snapped off the phone.

* * *

Blair was sweating and his hand hurt like hell. Dodi was whining and yipping, and struggling in the arms of one of the heavies.

"I _told_ you, that doesn't work!" Blair shouted. "You can't break it off. I've _tried!_ "

The heavy stopped banging Blair's hand against the wall of the alley, and looked at his boss for inspiration. The well-dressed man sighed theatrically.

"I can't rely on you for brainwork, can I, Benny?" The man turned to Blair. "You see, it was on account of these two retards," he continued in a withering voice, "that my dog was stolen. From a car with its doors left wide open, while they fussed with a padlock. And when she was stolen, one of my… sales samples was taken, too. A prototype. That's why I have to have it back."

"Your pills cache, you mean," spat Blair in anger. "You've turned Bambi into a drugs mule!" Dodi did a yip-snarl to emphasise the point.

"Oh dear," said the man thoughtfully. "I didn't realise you'd worked that out. Okay, that calls for another plan." He turned to his henchmen.

"Cut off the hand."

 _"NO!"_ shouted Blair in terror. The heavies fumbled for weapons.

"Dear god, not here!" snapped the well-dressed man. "Take him away – he's only a street bum. Deal with him and remove the hand. I’ll see you at the store."

"No! No! Help!" shouted Blair at the top of his voice, until a large, clammy hand muffled him. Panicking, he struggled and kicked out, but there were two of them….

There was flurry of fur and a blood-curdling snarling, and suddenly Benny's pal dropped Dodi and clutched his hand, which was already dripping blood.

"She bit me, Boss! She bit me!"

The moment of distraction was all that Blair needed. He kicked back at Benny's shins and broke free. Dodi leapt into his arms and they were off, haring down the alley and back onto Travis.

* * *

There were no cops to be seen. Blair blundered on thorough the crowds and saw the golden glow of Goodwins' main entrance. People were flocking in and out – a place to be lost, and hide out until he could get a message to Jim. 

He dodged though the doors, but almost immediately an arm blocked his way.

"Not in here, sir."

Blair looked up. It was a uniformed commissionaire, his face hard.

"Sorry, sir, I can't let you in here. Please go back outside."

"I need to be in here!" blustered Blair. "I've got shopping to do."

"I don't think so." The man smiled nastily. "I don't think you can afford our prices, do you? I think you just need to go back outside. I'm allowed to eject you if I think you are a hazard to our customers."

"Hazard?" shouted Blair, conscious that every little thing now was bringing on a huge, panicked overreaction from him, "Hazard? I've got a dog, all right? She's just a little dog. And I'm a customer, too."

"Not our kind of customer," replied the man, coldly.

"Mommy," came the voice of a small girl standing in the crowd that now sidled round Blair and the commissionaire, "what's that man doing to Bambi?"

"What's he…?" replied her mother, and then looked at Blair. "Oh my God, the man's a pervert! Look where he's got his hand!" She covered her daughter's eyes. "My God, we're on our way to the Nativity service, and we get to see this!"

There was a ripple of laughter and some shouts of outrage amongst the shoppers. The commissionaire propelled Blair towards the door.

"Come on, sir, before I have to call the cops."

"Yes! Yes! Call the cops!" shouted Blair, waving his Bambi-hand. "Please, I work with them! They know me! Call the PD and ask for Detective…"

He was already on the sidewalk, and the well-dressed man was there, smiling at him.

Blair and Dodi started running once more.

* * *

Sanctuary; the huge, dark mass of St Mary's Church loomed up, a silhouette surrounded by the brittle cheer of a commercial Christmas. But its doorway stood open and lit, and its windows glowed invitingly. Blair kept running straight for the door, Dodi under one arm. He had no idea how close his pursuers had got, but he hoped for somewhere to hide. Maybe under a pew, or in a cupboard, or…

He ran pell-mell into the nave of the church, and then skidded to halt. Facing him was a large poster on a board saying _'Welcome to our Christmas Eve annual blessing of pets!'_. Fifty shocked human faces stared at him. Almost the same number of non-human faces - some excited, some disdainful, some plainly bored, depending on species or disposition - stared at him, too. The place was full of cats and dogs and rabbits and gerbils. A donkey, tethered to a large, hay-filled manger halfway down the nave, skittered nervously in the sudden silence and let loose a hearty bray. Dodi gave a delighted bark, which started off all the other dogs.

 _Crap. Nativity Service._

The minister came forward, looking kind.

"Young man, are you joining us? You are most welcome." Blair swallowed in relief.

"Thank you. Oh, thank you. I'm being chased by some very bad people. They're drug dealers and they're trying to steal my dog…"

"Oh my God!" shrieked a piercing voice – it was the woman from Goodwins. "It's that pervert. Look at what he's doing to Bambi! Oh, I mean, no! Don’t look, children!"

"That’s not his dog," came a smooth voice. Everyone fell silent, even the donkey. The well-dressed man was standing in the church, Benny and his pal a few steps behind him. The minister frowned.

"Is this your dog, son?" he asked Blair kindly.

"Yes. No." said Blair. "I'm looking after her for a friend. Who they attacked!" He pointed at his pursuers with his Bambi-hand, and the Goodwins woman shrieked again. The well-dressed man sighed, and pulled a generic-looking card from his pocket.

"Reverend, I'm Detective Egremont from the PD. This young man is wanted for questioning and I’d like to take him away from the church now, with your consent. I don’t want to trouble these good folks." He smiled winningly at the minister, who looked doubtful. But Benny was moving forward.

"No! No!" shouted Blair. "He's lying! He's a crook, not a cop!"

Benny leapt for him, but not before Blair could bring his Bambi-hand round in a classic haymaker, hitting Benny full in the face with glitter; the man dropped like a stone. Both the well-dressed man and Benny's pal moved forward, reaching into their jackets.

"No guns!" shouted the minister, and both men stalled. The congregation started retreating nervously, the donkey began braying again and children were sobbing. Blair drew back, with Dodi under one arm, and brandished the Bambi.

"Get me Detective Ellison from the PD!" he shouted.

"Otherwise, what?" sneered the well-dressed man.

"Otherwise…" said Blair, and his mind went blank. There had just been too much panic; he was clean out of ideas. "Otherwise…." Dodi turned and looked up at him, her head on one side, then bared her teeth savagely, spoiling the effect somewhat by ending up with a yawn.

"Otherwise," shouted Blair, holding Dodi up high," you'll regret it! This is an attack dog," - Dodi yipped – "and, and… she's got rabies!"

 _Oh, right, possibly a step too far,_ thought Blair, as the church erupted around him. Dogs, cats and pet rodents were running everywhere, and the entire congregation was apparently trying to get out of the doors at the same time. The donkey took the opportunity to kick over the manger and, now free, ran around the chancel, braying loudly.

Stuck somewhere in the mass of people was the fake detective. Benny was still out cold, and his buddy was kneeling on the ground, holding up his bloodied hand, wailing, "She bit me! She bit me! I'm gonna die!" Blair and Dodi high-tailed it yet again, following the donkey into the chancel. Somewhere, there had to be a back door to this church. The donkey trotted past him, bored with the chancel. There was no way out.

So, a vestry or a side-chapel? Just somewhere to hide? The big church was bare and open. No boxes or cupboards, no ancient coffins….

A Christmas tree; it stood near the pulpit, firmly held in a big barrel filled with sand. It was adorned with decorations that looked like the product of a Sunday School armed riot. But it was big, and the branches were wide and… dammit, it was the only place left. Blair ducked under the branches, but that was just no good; he could be clearly seen. He looked above him, took a deep breath, and started to climb, very awkwardly. Dodi fidgeted and wriggled, and started to whine.

"Quiet, quiet!" Blair whispered. "He'll find us!" He stopped at the last big branch he could find, and held his breath, hoping the pine needles would stop dancing and betraying their presence. It was very quiet in the chancel, and the hubbub at the front of the church seemed a long way off. He heard footsteps, and clamped his hand around Dodi's muzzle. But he hoped… hoped… it was finally Jim.

"I don't know where you are," called the well-dressed man, "but I can guess. And I have a gun and a full clip. You want to climb down now, or shall I just start shooting?"

Blair closed his eyes. The guy was bluffing, surely he was bluffing. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

"You can hold it right there, Monty," said a familiar voice.

Blair let out his breath in a whoop. Dodi took this a sign to make a break for freedom. She wriggled free and gave a loud sneeze, then leapt down through the tree.

"No! Wait!" shouted Blair, losing his balance. The tree swayed, and then toppled slowly and majestically sideways in a flurry of branches.

* * *

Jim Ellison, with his gun firmly trained on Basil Egremont (now in cuffs and staring abjectly downwards), watched with half an eye as the tree collapsed. It all kind-of went, he thought, with the rioting petting-zoo back near the font, and the donkey now cheerfully munching hay in the aisle, accompanied by some happy rabbits. He wished his own church attendances as a child had been this much fun.

He was also not surprised to see a small black dog bursting free as the tree toppled to the floor, or the emergence of a tousled head from the tangle of branches.

"Jim!" Blair started forward then fell over the tree again. Jim raised an eyebrow.

"You okay, there, Chief?" 

"Fine, fine," replied Blair, his voice muffled. Jim allowed him to regain his dignity in silence. He turned again to Monty Egremont.

"Word on the street is you've been branching out, Monty. Muscling in on some pharmaceutical action. But what the hell are you doing, chasing around after a poodle?" 

Blair jogged up, brushing needles off himself. 

"Phew, I'm glad that's over. Thanks a lot, Jim! You know, if last week you’d said to me that this Christmas Eve I'd be sitting in a pine tree, with a poodle called Dodi and my hand up the butt of a rhinestone Bambi, I'd have said you were stoned. Now, I'm just - _'bring on the dancing penguins'…_ " Jim grinned.

"Only you, Chief, only you. And how the hell did your hand get there?" Blair waggled the Bambi-hand and grimaced.

"Had a little accident trying to see how many pills were stuffed inside this thing – a lot, as it turns out." Jim shook his head at Egremont.

"You know, Monty, you should have stuck to stolen property. You're good at that. This pill-peddling stuff, it's just not your game. And smuggling them in fake Christmas gifts? I don't know… isn't that kind of tacky, for a man with your criminal reputation?"

"But my hand's hurting like hell now, and I can't get it free," Blair continued, a little plaintively. "Any chance of some help, man?" 

"As soon as, buddy. In the meantime, do me a favour and have a calming word with the minister. It's literally a zoo back there and I fear he's ready to make an official complaint. Henri's holding the fort, but this is going to be his collar, and he's the one who needs to read Monty here his rights."

"Okay," replied Blair, looking around. "Just… where's Dodi?"

At the sound of her name, the little dog trotted up to Blair, but then swerved past to stare balefully at Egremont; Monty looked at her impatiently.

"Get lost, doggie," he sneered. "You’re cute, but you're not _that_ cute."

So Dodi squatted, neatly directed a stream of urine at Monty's two-tone shoes, and trotted off to join the donkey.

* * *

"Okay, Sandburg. Just hold still for me. Can you wiggle it at all?" Blair gave Jim a pained look.

"It's kind of swollen up. Haven't you got any grease, or something?"

They were outside St Mary's Church, and huddled over the tailgate of Jim's truck. Laid out in front of them was not a first aid kit, but the maintenance toolbox. Henri, fresh from mirandising Monty Egremont and his two heavies, ambled over and leaned over the tailgate, too.

"Hey, Jim, the uniforms are taking them in, so… Whoa! What the hell is that, Sandburg?"

"It’s a rhinestone Bambi dog-toy," replied Blair evenly. "It's where your man Egremont stashed a whole load of pill baggies." Henri grinned.

"Oh, so that's why you had Jim's jacket wrapped round your arm earlier? I thought you were injured in the line of duty, man!"

"I damn well was injured," snapped Blair. "My hand's got pretty bounced around in there. It hurts like hell. Ow, Jim, ow! Can't you do that more gently?"

"I gotta get the grease inside, Sandburg," said Jim tetchily. "There's not a lot of room." Henri guffawed.

"Don’t be saying things like that, Jim! You'll be scarin' the good church-goin' folk again! But Blair, my man, how the hell did you get your hand there?"

"It was a stupid accident, okay? I just wanted to see how many baggies there were," sighed Blair, "and my hand just kind of… slipped in." Henri was still sniggering.

"Well, I'm real pleased you weren't practising for anything, Hairboy! I mean, can we let you loose near the K9 units in future?"

Before Blair could answer, Jim straightened his back, and drew himself up to his full height to tower over Henri.

"Don’t you have some felons to process back at the PD, Brown? And quite a lot of illegal drugs to collect? Huh?" Henri backed off, grin slightly diminished.

"Sure, sure, Jim. I'll just get going now and sort it all out. Uh, hope you get that grease to work, man. You know, there's some guys in Vice who may have a few tips for you..." At Jim's intensified glare, he put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'll stop now, I promise. But you gotta admit, it's pretty funny!"

"Henri," said Blair peering awkwardly round Jim's bulk - attached as he was to the deer and to Jim, in that order, and therefore not very mobile - "can you keep quiet about this at the PD? As a favour to me? I mean, it was just an accident. And it really hurts, man."

"Hey," replied Henri earnestly, "of course I will. Don't worry." He made a zipping motion across his face with his hand. "Not a word from me, Hairboy. I mean, that was great work today, my man."

As Henri wandered off to his own vehicle, Blair turned to Jim, who was still liberally squirting grease into the Bambi's rear-end.

"Phew. At least Henri will keep his mouth shut."

"Are you kidding?" snorted Jim. "This'll be all over the PD before we get back. You know what cops are like. You'll be knee-deep in rubber gloves, haemorrhoid cream and lubricating gel before we even get to New Year."

"Oh, great," groaned Blair. "Another plus for my reputation. Jeesus, Jim! Stop pulling on it like that! It’s just not gonna budge, you hear me?" Jim threw down the grease gun.

"Okay, so we cut it off…"

"What? What?"

"Relax, Sandburg. I mean the Bambi, not your goddamn hand. You're kinda wound-up this evening, little buddy. Feeling stressed?" Jim gave him look of patently fake concern.

"Ha, ha, very funny," began Blair, and then Jim held up the band-saw for him to see. "No joke, Ellison! I want the ER, and now!"

* * *

The Emergency Room in Cascade General at 8pm on Christmas Eve was surprisingly full, given that the world and his wife should have been settling down in the bosom of their families at that point. What wasn't surprising was the types of injuries and problems that presented there. Sprains and breaks from falling over whilst putting up decorations, or from rushing for a last minute present in town; burns from faulty fairy lights; someone who had blown up his oven while trying to make _vol-au-vents_ (and was remarkably singed); and some screaming children with unknown ailments.

It was the kids who were making the whole experience hell for Jim, and he sat there with his hearing dialled down about as far as it could go. It had done nothing for his mood, and any remarks from Blair had been met either with stony silence, or _'Stop whining, Sandburg!'_. So they waited, exhausted and grouchy, Blair with an old gym-towel from the back seat of the truck wrapped around his Bambi-hand.

Just as he was called forward, Jim's mobile rang. Jim waved Blair onwards and turned away to answer the call in the lobby. Blair entered a white cubicle with green curtains, and sat on the examination table there, feeling and looking tired, ragged and dirty. The young doctor who appeared looked at him askance.

"You did what?" he asked, as Blair once again displayed the Bambi-hand.

"It's a dog-toy, and I was looking for drugs. Because there's a whole load of pills in there. I needed to get them out."

"Looking for drugs; in a dog-toy," repeated the doctor. "Okay, so I need to call the police right now. You understand that?"

"I'm _with_ the police, man!" protested Blair. "There's a Detective out in the lobby waiting. He'll be in here shortly."

"So you've been arrested already?" asked the doctor, looking confused.

"No, I _work_ with the police…"

"Okay, okay," sighed the doctor. He turned to a nurse who had just appeared. "Can you check the records on this patient for me, please? See if he has a history of mental illness, specifically delusion."

"I am _not_ delusional!" shouted Blair, suddenly infuriated. The whole day had dragged on far, far too long, and the strain of everything that had happened was telling on him. Worst of all, Dodi had been taken away from him at the church, also for 'processing', and he found he missed her keenly.

"And they took my dawg!" he howled.

The doctor must have given some kind of signal because, all at once, two orderlies appeared and took hold of Blair's arms, restraining him.

"I am so sick of this!" hissed Blair, shutting his eyes. "I just want this goddamn thing off my hand!"

There was a sudden silence in the tiny room. He opened his eyes again to see a tall figure standing in the doorway, dominating the scene.

"I'm Detective Ellison of Major Crime Department, Cascade PD," said Jim evenly, showing his badge. "Mr Sandburg is affiliated to my department and has today been instrumental in breaking a significant pill-peddling racket, as a result of which he's trapped his hand in that thing." Jim pointed at the Bambi. "So I would be grateful if you could remove it as fast as possible, as I need to confiscate the contents as evidence." The doctor, who had been staring open-mouthed, nodded repeatedly and nervously.

"Okay, okay," he said, then turned to the nurse. "We'll need to be careful, as this plastic is surprisingly tough and rigid, and the patient's hand is quite bruised and swollen underneath. Get the cast saw."

"Uh, be aware, there may be a tad of grease inside," said Jim, moving to stand by Blair, who looked up at Jim with a tired smile.

"Thanks, man," he said. "I've kind of had it with today, you know?"

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder, and squeezed.

"I know. But it's almost over." Jim paused for a moment, and then cleared his throat. 

"You did a fine job today, Chief," he went on. "I don't know how you manage to get into these scrapes, but you pretty much single-handedly destroyed Basil Egremont's operation. Henri and his pals are gonna be clear about that, plus the fact that, courtesy of Blair Sandburg, a nice fat collar's fallen right in his lap."

"Thanks, man," smiled Blair.

"And here's a little something to cheer you up," continued Jim. "That phone call was the dog pound. They say we can look after Dodi until they can contact her real owners. How does that sound?"

Blair grinned from ear to ear, and hardly noticed the saw cutting through the hard plastic of the Bambi.

"Like a Christmas present, Jim!"

* * *

" _'Dorcas Deirdre, Lady Lucky of Lafayette'_ ," read Simon. "Boy, no wonder they called her Dodi." Blair reached out to snag the letter from Simon's hand, but Simon snatched it away quickly.

"Now, now. You don’t get this till your Captain is good and ready, okay?" Blair sighed and sat back in his chair, adjusting the sling on his shoulder; Jim just smirked.

"Right," continued Simon, "well, you may already have guessed she was a pedigree from that name. She's of famous stock, apparently, and still quite young. Her owners were intending to breed from her at least once, and those puppies would be like gold-dust. So naturally they're glad to have her back. Oh, as well as loving her very much as a pet, it says here."

"Well, just as long as they do," grumbled Blair.

"So Monty just struck lucky - so to speak - when he got hold of her?" asked Jim. Simon shrugged.

"He's been telling Henri that he was fencing artworks from a house in LA, before he got out of town, and his suppliers turned up with the dog as well as the paintings. She'd jumped in their truck. I think he just saw her as a cute and classy dog, so he held on to her. At least her microchip means she's back with her rightful owners. And, yeah, Sandburg, I guess they really did love her, because you know that pretty collar she had….?"

Blair nodded.

"Yeah, the rhinestone one."

"Ah-hah! That’s where you’re wrong," crowed Simon, waving his unlit cigar around. "They weren't rhinestones. Her owners loved her so much they gave her a collar studded with actual, _quality_ diamonds!"

"You’re _kidding!_ " exclaimed Blair and Jim, in perfect unison. Simon grinned.

"Nope! And this means that on top of the reward they were offering for Dodi's safe return, they also want to thank the finder of the collar." He finally handed the letter over to Blair.

"There you go, young Sandburg. Read and rejoice."

Blair scanned the letter, and his eyes got rounder and wider as he read the paragraph about the reward.

"Jim, just look! That much? Wow! I mean… _WOW!_ "

"It's a little late for a Christmas present, but Happy New Year, eh?" smiled Simon, waving them out of his office. Blair was still engrossed in the letter, so didn’t hear the muffled:

_"Lock up your pets! Here comes Sandburg!"_

that came from behind the filing cabinets, plus the sniggers that accompanied it. Jim gave a gracious one-fingered gesture to the room – for Chrissakes, a joke was a joke, but it had been _days_ now - and crossed to their desks. 

He automatically swept the pile – diminishing now, thank God – of latex gloves deposited on Sandburg's computer into the trash can, though he did pocket the small pot of edible glitter that had been left there, too – you never knew when things like that would come in handy. Then he picked up both their coats, draped Blair's over his shoulders to avoid the sling, and ushered his friend, who was still reading, towards the elevator. It wasn't until they got to parking-garage level, and were heading to the truck, that Blair spoke, his voice thoughtful.

"You know, Jim, you keep asking me why I spend time helping Arch. I never really gave you a good answer." He looked up at Jim, his expression serious. "What I've realised in talking to people like Arch is that there are so many folks who are only one pay-check away from losing their homes. It only takes for one little thing to go wrong, and their lives are in the toilet, and it's so difficult to climb out. That's what happened to Arch. Just one month's pay and a lost job, and he was on the streets."

"Hey, some people are only an _explosion_ away from being homeless…" joked Jim, giving Blair's hair a brief ruffle. But Blair stopped walking, and frowned, so Jim halted, too.

"Yeah," replied Blair. "You see, that’s my point. There but for the grace of God. You helped me, Jim. You offered help at just the right time, and it made all the difference. Arch has never had that. So here's my plan. It’s really Arch that found Dodi and her collar – rescued her, in fact. So I think the reward money should go to him."

Jim whistled.

"That’s one hell of a generous move, Chief! Are you sure? All of it?" Blair smiled at him.

"It wouldn't feel right to keep it, Jim. And think, with that behind him, he can get some proper accommodation, eat well, get into a jobs programme…. And even get himself his own _dawg_."

Jim put his arm around Blair's shoulders and, giving him a lopsided hug, pushed him towards the truck.

"I think it’s an amazing idea, and you are one hell of a guy, Chief. Good for you."

They climbed into the truck. As Jim buckled in, Blair gave him a sideways look.

"Sweet, huh? That Dodi may have puppies? Bet they'll be real cute little things, and well-behaved, too, just like their mom…"

"Uh-huh," replied Jim absently, swinging the truck out of the garage, "real cute."

"So…" continued Blair, turning to look guilelessly out of the side-window, "…Jim - ever thought about getting a dog?"

But that's another story.


End file.
